


Furtive

by des_txt



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Friendship, Developing Relationship?, For the first chapter at least, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Logan and Patton appear for like. a single scene, M/M, inspired by a tumblr post, so does Deceit, then running a bit wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-08 11:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15242013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/des_txt/pseuds/des_txt
Summary: "Done in a quiet and secretive way to avoid being noticed."In which Roman doesn't want to ask for help, but Virgil is there to provide it anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i cried while writing this,,
> 
> It’s been Literal Years since I last posted a fanfic of mine (I haven’t even posted anything in this account before this) but I got inspired, so I thought I’d give this a try. 
> 
> This was inspired by chemically-imbalanced-romance’s [tumblr post](https://chemically-imbalanced-romance.tumblr.com/post/169841797701), particularly the very last paragraph. I just took the concept and ran with it and before I knew it I had over 3k words that slowly turned angstier as I went. It spans the last few months before the events of Accepting Anxiety, stopping right before Virgil ‘ducks out’.
> 
>  **WARNINGS FOR:** Self neglect, mentions of wounds/injuries, verbal fighting/yelling, Deceit appears for a brief scene (he’s not really ‘good’ or ‘bad’ he’s just kind of… there?), self-deprecating thoughts(?), ‘ducking out’ is kind of thought about the same way suicide would be so I guess suicidal thoughts? And mentions of it and death (no actual suicide/death though). Also Virgil swears because of course he does. I think that’s all, but let me know if you think I should add anything else on this list!

Roman groans as he leans against the bathroom door frame. He considers not turning on the lights, wonders whether or not it’s worth the effort to lift his arm to do it.

He tries -for what feels like the millionth time that night- to catch his breath, as if doing so will somehow magically make his injuries fade away. It’s not an unfair thought, he reasons with himself; after all, injuries dealt in the Imagination will fade much quicker than others once he’s back to the Mind Palace.

As long as they’re properly taken care of, that is.

“Are you, perhaps, some sort of idiot?”

The gravely voice startles him enough to throw his attempt to the wind, and the lights flicker on with a ‘click’ just as he turns towards its direction.

Anxiety is sitting on his sink, legs crossed and one hand still hovering over the light switch. His expression is something between bored out of his mind and annoyed, and Roman narrows his eyes at the darker trait.

“Don’t answer that,” Anxiety interrupts him just as he opens his mouth, as if he’s been waiting to do it ( _the nerve_!). “You obviously are.”

Roman is about to tell him off when a sharp pain rips through his side. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, clinging to the door frame to keep from doubling over.

Anxiety huffs and slides down from the sink, opening the cabinet under it to take out the first-aid kit. He closes the toilet lid and gives a sharp nod towards it. “Sit.”

Roman is too busy taking deep breaths and blinking rapidly (he’s already been pathetic enough in front of _Anxiety_ of all people, he won’t also cry from pain now, he will _not_ ) to really comprehend what is being asked from him for a few seconds. When it finally sinks in, he looks over to Anxiety, disbelieving. “Ex… cuse? Me?”

Anxiety’s face twitches. “Sit down,” he repeats, an edge of annoyance in his voice. “You look like shit, and appropriate as that might be for the room, I’m not in the mood for hearing you whine all night.”

Roman squints. “If that’s your attempt at offering help, I don’t want it,” he grumbles. “Get out.”

Anxiety scowls. “Would you accept if someone else offered, or would you still be a moron and try to act like you don’t need it?”

Roman hopes his glare is as intense as he tries to make it. How dare Anxiety try to bring the others into this? Roman has been so careful as to avoid this, and now this- this _villain_ is about to bring all his careful avoidance crumbling to the ground, because of course he is. 

He makes his way towards Anxiety, ignoring the pain threatening to make him double over again. He attempts to tower over the other -it would be more difficult, he figures, if Anxiety wasn’t slouching so much all the time- and revels in the way Anxiety’s eyes widen the slightest bit. 

“Get. Out.” he repeats. “I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s. I’ve been handling this just fine on my own, so-”

“Like hell you were!” Anxiety’s voice rises and Roman is instantly hyper-aware of just how much noise they must have been making. He stops himself from glancing back towards the door in favor of keeping up his glaring, but his heartbeat picks up nonetheless. 

“What’s your problem?” Roman speaks in a harsh whisper, but apparently Anxiety isn’t about to play along.

“What’s _my_ problem?” Anxiety nearly yells, “you’ve been probably sleeping in the bathroom floor because you were in too much pain to move back to the bedroom! Fuck knows what kind of patch up work you’ve been doing in that state! You call that ‘handling this just fine’?!”

There’s a knock on the bedroom door, and Patton’s voice sounds tired but hopeful behind it. “Roman? Are you back, kiddo?”

Roman can’t help but turn around, and the motion makes his head spin and a stab of pain rip through him. Hating the whimper that comes out of his mouth, he falls kneeling to the ground, wrapping his arms around him. 

“Princey?” Anxiety’s voice has returned to a lower volume (is there a hint of concern he’s hearing?), and Roman glances over to see the other looming over him. Anxiety’s arms are extended towards him, as if he wants to touch him but is hesitant to, and Roman swats them away with a grunt.

“I said get out!” Despite the motion making him lightheaded, Roman lifts his head and tries to glare at Anxiety, “you are not wanted here. I thought I made it clear.”

Anxiety only rolls his eyes as if he was expecting it. “Stop being so stubborn for once.” He grabs Roman’s arm just as the bedroom door opens.

“Let go of me!” Roman yanks his arm away and stands up, immediately regretting it and shakily leaning on the sink with a cry of pain.

“What’s going on in here?” Logan’s voice has them both turning towards the bathroom doorway. Roman’s heart falls to the pit of his stomach, and he tries once again to blink against the tears threatening to fall (whether they’re from the agony his body is going through or the realization that he’s been found out sinking in, he doesn’t want to know). Patton is on his side on an instant, obviously restraining himself from wrapping the other in a hug.

“This… _intruder_ knows no better than to sit on people’s sinks of all places, apparently,” Roman grumbles. He can still cover up. He can still save this.

“Cut the crap,” Anxiety all but growls, shoving his hands in his pockets. “This idiot thinks he’s better off bleeding out is what’s going on.”

Patton, and to some extend Logan, are all over him in a second, and Roman sends yet another glare towards the fourth person in the room.

Anxiety leaves without another word.

*

“I’m _sure_ that did _not_ just make them hate you more.”

Virgil sighs and curls into himself a little more. He really wishes he’d put his headphones on the moment he entered his room. Maybe Deceit would’ve taken the hint and left him alone. “I know.”

He can picture Deceit’s face twitch. “Roman appreciated your attempt greatly,” he all but hisses.

Roman’s face flashes in Virgil’s head, his words echoing way too loudly. _You are not wanted here._

“I know.”

Deceits sighs heavily, and Virgil feels his bed dip.

“I… understand completely.”

His voice is rough, and Virgil glances over his shoulder to see the other slumped over, with his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped in front of him. Virgil turns back to staring at the wall.

“I know.”

He breathes in shakily.

It’s okay.

At least they’re taking care of each other.

*

They aren’t.

Roman becomes sneakier with his quests. He tells Patton that he’ll be back in a week, and then appears two days after his departure, shaking and barely making it to his bathroom before he collapses in pain, struggling to be as quiet as possible. He spends the rest of the week messily tending to his wounds and resting (not well), showing up at the end of it to assure the others that he made it out with nothing but flesh wounds.

And, well.

Virgil can’t have that.

*

He knew he’d be found out sooner or later; he’s been indiscreet enough to have already been found out once before, after all.

He was just hoping it would be _later_.

He barely has enough time to choke down his yelp when the lights turn on. The dark trait lounging on his sink does _not_ look happy.

“If you’re trying to kill yourself, you’re not doing a good job at it.” Anxiety jumps down and opens the cabinet, all but slamming it back closed once he’s gotten the first-aid kit out and all but throwing _that_ next to the sink. “But then again, you’re not exactly doing that well on the ‘staying alive’ department either, so...” he leans on his elbow on the kit and looks at Roman through narrowed eyes, “what exactly _are_ you trying to accomplish?”

Roman flinches at all the noise, worriedly glancing towards his bedroom door. When no one comes barging in, he turns and glares at the visitor in his bathroom. “What do you want?” he hisses through his teeth.

“Nothing,” Anxiety says, snapping the toilet lid closed.

Roman is _not_ having that.

“Get out,” he all but growls, “or I’ll get you out myself.” He’s not sure how well the threat works when he’s barely able to walk and shaking. Anxiety doesn’t seem impressed by it, so there’s that.

“I mean, you could, technically, kick me out,” Anxiety says, something dangerous glinting in his eyes, “but that would require making enough noise for one -or even both- of the others to notice. So you either cooperate or get found out.”

“You’ll just rat me out like that again?” Roman tries to go for accusatory, but he’s pretty sure it just comes out as tired. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

“I never claimed to be playing fair,” Anxiety shrugs, and gives the first-aid kit a pat. “So?”

Roman sighs, long and annoyed, and limps towards the toilet.

(He misses the way Anxiety’s shoulders slump a little in relief.)

*

Within the next half hour, Roman realizes three things:

1\. Anxiety is being way more gentle than Roman could ever imagine him capable. He cleans and covers his wounds with a feather-light touch and he looks almost regretful when Roman winces in pain.

2\. The crease between the darker trait’s eyebrows is not one of annoyance, but one more closely resembling Patton’s caring, worried frown (and it throws Roman off more than he wants to admit).

3\. He… actually feels better.

The first time he was found, when Patton and Logan patched him up, Roman was too busy sulking and being mad at Anxiety for _always ruining everything_ that even despite the others doing a great job at fixing him up, he didn’t feel any better for days after. There was also the hurt and confusion in Patton’s eyes and Logan’s hour-long lectures on how important self-care is, which only made him feel even worse. But now, with the darker trait leaning over him and cleaning his face with a warm cloth, he finds himself oddly at peace. It’s unnerving, and he _knows_ he shouldn’t let his guard down because what if it’s all one of Anxiety’s schemes, what if- _oh_ , but those cold hands on his heated skin feel like a breath of fresh air and his thoughts dissipate.

Anxiety is obviously better than him at treating wounds too (or maybe it’s because when Roman tries to treat his own wounds he’s tired and in pain and his hands are shaky). Where did he even learn to do _stitches_?

Anxiety finishes patching him up without a word (though he does keep clicking his tongue and mumbling under his breath things that Roman can’t make out throughout the whole procedure) and puts the first-aid kit away. Shoving his hands in his pockets and grumbling something about Roman ‘better not messing up his work’, he walks towards the door.

“Wait,” Roman goes to stand up, instantly regretting that decision and slumping back with a groan. Anxiety stops and glances back at him anyway, so he pushes on. “How did you know? You were the one who found me the first time too, so how…?”

Anxiety looks away and frowns as if he’s weighing on his options. Finally, he sighs. “Heightened hearing,” he says, pulling on his earlobe without looking at Roman. “I can’t pick up on everything, but someone crying in pain in the middle of the night isn’t exactly easy to ignore.”

Roman guesses that’s fair, and Anxiety leaves again.

*

It becomes something of a habit; Virgil catching Roman returning from a quest, trying -and failing- to be quiet as he makes his way into his bathroom to take care of his wounds, coaxing him to sit down and do it himself instead. As time goes on, Virgil catches himself being bold enough to actually scold Roman, the fear of the prince trying to kick him out when he does so significantly smaller. He even sneaks in the occasional insult when he’s feeling extra salty.

It keeps him at ease, somehow, that he can still act that way. He can’t for the life of him bring himself to be rough with Roman when he’s in so much obvious pain, but he can still make sure he doesn’t hear the end of it. Being gentle with his wounds doesn’t mean he’ll be gentle about expressing how much Roman doing this irritates him.

Even so, he finds himself in Roman’s bathroom a couple months later, with the question that’s been bothering him for so long finally tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“Why do you do this?”

Virgil hates how his voice almost cracks. Still, it’s about time he tried to ask again, in a way the prince might actually respond to.

And if Roman hates him even more for it, well. Virgil can handle that.

He can.

*

Roman stares at the ceiling. He _really_ doesn’t want to respond.

What is there to say anyway?

That he’d much rather be found dead than have to be taken care of like some kind of invalid? He’s a _prince_ , he _protects_ , and if he can’t even take care of himself how are others supposed to take him seriously? If he breaks down at the first difficulty, how can he be seen as someone who inspires and moves people towards following their dreams?

He doesn’t want to say any of it. Yet at the same time, a part of him longs to.

He settles on, “it’s easier.”

*

The answer hardly feels like one, and yet Virgil understands, somehow.

While the other three may bicker amongst themselves, they care for eachother deeply (something Virgil wishes he could have despite knowing he can’t ever be part of it). Virgil knows it, he can see it, but even still, he kind of gets where Roman is coming from, infuriating as that might be.

It’s easier to handle things on your own than to have to rely on others. It’s easier to not have to owe anything to anyone. It’s easier to keep your guard up than lower it enough for others to see what’s inside.

It’s easier to put on a front than to make yourself vulnerable.

“Why do you do _this_?”

Roman’s voice snaps Virgil out of his thoughts, and his concentration on the wound under his hand stutters. He glances up to the other’s face, only to find Roman slumped and _staring_ at him. His face is flushed and he’s obviously struggling to keep his eyes open, and yet he looks like he’s genuinely interested in the answer.

Virgil stops himself from cowering away from the scrutiny, choosing instead to return his focus to the task at hand. He can feel his face grow warmer, and clears his throat in a way he hopes is inconspicuous.

“Well I mean,” his voice cracks a little bit but he stubbornly pushes on, “it’s not that fun to antagonize someone who’s too sick or in pain to retaliate, y’know?” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and Virgil can see a smirk spreading on Roman’s face in the corner of his eye. “ _Ha_ ,” Roman laughs.

“What?”

Roman leans his head back. “So much for not claiming to play fair, huh?”

Virgil huffs, and hopes Roman is too tired to notice the smile growing on his face.

(He isn’t, and Roman tries to ignore the way his heart leaps at the sight.)

*

Virgil is _tired_.

That’s nothing new, in and of itself. He’s always tired. Being unable to sleep for more than four hours at a time without a nightmare doesn’t exactly do for the most healthy sleep schedule.

But it’s manageable, somehow. It’s not easy, but if he can at least function it’s _enough_.

Physical exhaustion he can deal with.

This is so, so much worse.

He’s tried sleeping it off. It didn’t help a single bit.

He’s tried helping Thomas out. It only made things worse.

He wouldn’t much care if it only made things worse for himself, but lately it feels like he’s been hurting _Thomas_ , too. His host has been trying so hard to figure himself out, make his life easier and _better_ , and Virgil…

Virgil has been holding him back from it.

He’s so tired. He just wants to stop.

And there’s a way to do that.

…

Not yet. Roman isn’t back yet.

It doesn’t matter much (he’s pretty sure he’s just stalling at this point) but, well. He wants to make sure all of them are around when it happens. He wants to make sure they can deal with the aftermath, with whatever his absence does to Thomas, together. They’ll be okay, he knows.

They’ve always been stronger together, the three of them. It was about time he left them to their own devices.

But he might as well give one of them something even remotely nice to remember.

*

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before entering the bathroom.

The lights flicker on almost instantly, and he opens his eyes slowly, letting them adjust as he breathes out.

Something’s off.

He glances towards the sink, and sure enough, Anxiety is lounging on it like any other time. But there’s no challenge in his eyes, no sneer on his lips.

Roman is all but certain that something’s off by now. “No witty quip?” he manages after a few moments.

Something changes in Anxiety’s expression, but Roman is too exhausted to try and analyze it. And anyway, he doesn’t have enough time to.

Anxiety looks away and slides down and off the sink, and Roman now realizes just how _quiet_ the darker side is- not only speaking wise, but the way he moves to grab the first-aid kit and close the cabinet and the toilet lid is so much more careful of making any noise at all.

Roman makes his way towards the toilet and sits, looking to the other expectantly. Anxiety takes a deep breath, almost as if to steel himself, and turns around to face him.

He goes through the procedure like he always has; slow and uncharacteristically gentle. But he doesn’t speak, doesn’t meet Roman’s eyes once.

The silence is deafening. Roman wants to say something, but when he catches a glimpse of Anxiety’s face, whatever he was going to say dies in his throat.

There’s something sad and vulnerable in Anxiety’s eyes (despite him obviously trying too keep his expression neutral), and Roman can’t for the life of him bring himself to claim that the person he’s looking at is supposed to be the antagonist. But then again, he’s had this kind of ‘problem’ for a while now anyway, hasn’t he?

Anxiety has always been… darker in disposition than the rest of them, and definitely not someone Roman would consider hanging out with outside of the videos. Even still, Roman has found himself grateful for the time he spent patching him up. He originally thought he’d loathe it much more than being taken care of by Patton or Logan, but...

But Anxiety has never looked hurt, has never lectured him with that disappointed edge in his voice while he did this. The boldness in his words never negated the gentleness in his touch either, and Roman realizes he’d been kind of looking forward to the sarcastic remarks on his way back.

Only to arrive to a complete absence of them.

...has Roman ever even thanked him?

*

He’s stalling again. He knows it, again.

But as he seals the last piece of gauze around Roman’s bicep (he’s warm, almost feverish, and will Virgil be as cold as he usually is where he goes?), he feels himself slowing down. He opens his mouth to say something and hesitates. What is there to say, anyway?

He puts the first-aid kit back to its place (he tries not to look at it like it’s a friend he’s leaving behind, he does) and heads towards the door. But he halts again, a hand on the door frame (the same place Roman had slumped on, that very first time that now feels like forever ago) and takes a steadying breath.

“Roman?” he asks quietly, and it feels so different, so _foreign_ compared to the playfulness of ‘Princey’, to the banter-y, competitive tone so often shared between them. But he supposes it’s fitting, in a sick, twisted way, that he’d let it slip like this right before leaving.

“Y-yeah?” Roman sounds like he’s clinging to his words, to whatever’s coming next, and Virgil’s heart pounds almost painfully.

He’s going to say something else. He _wants_ to say something else. But his breath gets stuck in his throat, because how do you say that you’ll be gone by morning, how do you apologize for all the pain and misery you’ve caused the ones around you, the ones you claim to love, how can you claim that you love them, that you have loved them, and, if, where you’re going, you still have some semblance of consciousnesses, you’ll love them still, how do you say you don’t even know where you’re going how do you say how scared scared scared you are of going how do you say it’s for the best when it hurts so much and you don’t want to go you don’t want to go you can’t _breathe_ -

“Anxiety?”

Roman’s voice is soft, sounds almost hesitant, and fuck, Virgil does not want to hear it that way right now, doesn’t want Roman making things even harder than they should be. He breathes in deeply through his nose and raises his head, but does not look back. “Goodnight,” he mutters and takes a step into the bedroom.

“Wait!” He hears Roman standing up and he really shouldn’t be standing up in his condition, what is he _thinking_ \- “Anxiety. Thank you.”

Virgil shuts his eyes tightly. He is _not_ about to break down in front of Roman over a ‘thank you’, dammit, no matter how much his heart swells and rises to his throat in the form of a sob he chokes down.

But it seems Roman isn’t letting him off that easily either.

“For… for doing this,” he continues, and his voice softens once again. “For all the times you’ve done this.”

Virgil nods (the movement absolutely _doesn’t_ make a tear or two slip free) and exits the bathroom.

In a way, it feels like closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a part 2 coming but enjoy my tears for now and also congrats and thank u for making it this far and also also sorry for all the italics


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this second part is like.. Extremely Self Indulgent so it might be ooc? It’s also significantly shorter than the first one and not… as… ‘good’? I Live To Disappoint, after all. Still, it was mainly written to soothe the pain from the first one (cause I felt bad just leaving them like that) and to catch a glimpse of how their dynamic has changed since then. It’s more of a bonus than a ~Real Second Chapter~ and I realized way too late that that’s how I should have phrased it instead of like.. making people believe that it’s anywhere near the same level as the first one in any way. I’ll have fun trying to sleep tonight with that in mind.
> 
> In any case, I had fun writing it so hopefully someone else enjoys it as well. It takes place a few months after Accepting Anxiety.
> 
>  **WARNINGS FOR:** Mentions of wounds/injuries, beginnings of an anxiety attack, spiraling thoughts, mentions of self neglect and implied disordered eating(?), Deceit appears for like two sentences (he cool tho). Also like One(1) swear. I believe that’s all but let me know if I need to add anything else on this list!

Roman squints against the bathroom light. It feels harsher than usual and he makes an unhappy sound at the back of his throat. He can hear movement near him, and then a familiar -cold, so cold and so _good_ \- pair of hands are on his face and he breathes a sigh of relief at the touch.

“How bad?” Virgil’s voice is hushed as if he knows any louder would only add to Roman’s misery- and maybe he does. Even after months of getting closer to him, Roman still isn’t exactly sure how Virgil works.

The anxious side is an ever-growing mystery, and Roman has grown to love finding the clues.

“Bad,” he manages after a few moments, and his voice sounds rough even to himself.

The hands leave his face and he whimpers pathetically at the loss. He’s then moving, and despite not being sure how he makes it there, he’s sitting on the closed toilet lid. Something cool and soft (and wet?) covers his eyes and forehead, and another similar something is pressed gently over the rest of his face a few times.

“Roman? I’m going to get started on your wounds,” Virgil says, and Roman hopes a hum is answer enough.

*

Roman wasn’t kidding. It does look bad.

Virgil has taken care of deeper wounds than these before, but the sheer _number_ of them has his hands shaking and he has to take a few deep breaths to keep from spiraling.

He wouldn’t be as scared (see: he’d be _slightly_ less scared, but sometimes that ‘slightly’ makes the difference between losing himself in an anxiety attack or not) if Roman was at least a little more responsive, but the prince looks feverish and oversensitive and Virgil loathes to add to his misery but he needs to know if there’s any other injuries he’s missing, or anything Roman needs right now that he’s forgetting.

(He would also like to share a few choice words with him, but he bites his tongue- they can wait. For now.)

 _Water_ \- Virgil almost stops cleaning the wound in front of him at the realization- _Roman needs something to drink!_ \- one thing at a time. Patch up first and foremost- _what if something gets infected_ \- that’s why you’re doing this, _dumbass_ \- oh, so it’s better for him to die of dehydration- he’s _not_ going to die, that’s why you’re _here_ \- 

A warm hand finds its way to his face. He inhales sharply (when did his breathing get so fast?) as knuckles run over his cheek, and then leave to shakily run through his hair. 

“Shh, ‘s okay,” Roman slurs. “Y’re doin’ okay.”

Virgil finds himself fighting back tears. Even in his feverish haze, Roman’s still trying to comfort him, the sweetheart.

(And there Virgil was, thinking about burying him alive for his stupidity -lest Roman digs his own grave- not two minutes prior. Selfish. Selfish and cruel.)

It works, somehow, and Virgil manages to finish cleaning up and covering Roman’s wounds without another hitch (but with the occasional sniffle) and gets him a glass of water. Roman downs it slowly, and there’s no mistaking the relief on his face as he does.

Virgil picks up Roman bridal style and carries him to the bedroom. Being ‘fight-or-flight’ has its perks, one of them making him physically stronger (and faster) the more anxious he gets (before he gets _too_ anxious and shuts down nearly completely, anyway), and he’s quite worried for the prince in his arms right now despite having personally taken care of his wounds. Roman is also lighter when he returns from his quests (yet another entry to his ever-expanding list of worries), something Virgil found out when the prince returned limping on a sprained ankle.

He feels Roman bury his face in his neck and wrap an arm around his shoulder. “’m sorry I worried you,” he mumbles tiredly.

Virgil breathes a laugh. “I’m pretty sure something would be wrong if I _wasn’t_ worried.” 

Roman only tightens his hold.

Virgil tucks him in gently, running a hand though his hair until he falls asleep. Once it looks like he has, Virgil turns to leave. A tiny distressed sound is the only warning he gets before his sleeve is tugged, and he turns to face the bed again.

“Stay?” Roman can barely keep his eyes open but he still looks at him, soft and pleading, and how can Virgil say no to that? 

He climbs into the bed after turning the lights off, and drags the curtain of the canopy to its place. In there, with only the fairy lights above them, Virgil wraps an arm around Roman -mindful of his injuries-, his other hand running through the prince’s hair once again.

Roman sighs happily and burrows closer. “Thank you, Virgil,” he mumbles sleepily, and Virgil is sure his name has never sounded sweeter.

Wow, okay. He’s in Roman’s room, alright.

Virgil tries to keep his eyes open to no avail. There’s still so many things to sort through in his head and he can’t do that if he’s asleep, but Roman is warm against his chest and he finds himself slowly drifting before long.

When Roman wakes up, he’ll tell Virgil about his quest. Virgil will listen and occasionally comment, not missing the opportunity to scold Roman- but Roman will understand and take it in stride, knowing Virgil is right but also aware that he will do the same thing again sooner or later. Deceit will drop by and begrudgingly update the two on the situation outside of Roman’s room, having taken Virgil’s appearance to keep the others from looking for him.

(“It’s _so_ difficult. It’s not like you still keep to your room most of the time anyway.”)

And when Roman’s recovered, Virgil will try to convince him to talk to the others. He won’t succeed- Roman will be too busy trying (or pretending) to sort through all his new ideas and will shove them in Virgil’s face to see if he likes them, running off to ask Logan and Patton before he gets a response.

The two will be happy to see him back (Logan less obviously than Patton, but to the same degree nonetheless). Roman will put on his brave knight facade and retell everything he’s already told Virgil (only even more dramatically and with less tears), glancing to the anxious side once in a while. Virgil will sigh and play along, knowing that even though his words haven’t been acknowledged they’ve been heard, and maybe that’s something to build upon later as well. 

He’ll eventually settle to just having a movie night. Roman will pick all of Virgil’s favorites and pretend to ignore the other’s playful eye roll in favor of singing whatever opening song is playing in top volume.

Virgil knows they should talk about it to Logan and Patton. Roman has made great progress in letting himself be taken care of and asking for help, but he still hasn’t given up his old habits completely. Virgil knows it takes a lot of time and patience to reach that point (hell, he’s not there himself yet either, try as he might), but sometimes he’s afraid Roman won’t have reached it by the time he might need to face it.

(Roman shuffles and mumbles something in his sleep. Virgil pulls him closer.)

But he’s still here. And right now, that’s all that matters.

Virgil breathes in deeply and smiles.

It’s okay.

They’re taking care of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wELP here it is,, thanks for reading and congrats for making it through my writing. Go drink some water
> 
> (also happy nameday to the Goodest Bad Boy uhh,, *looks at smudged writing on hand* virgin)


End file.
